


Sleep on the Left Side

by irolltwenties (Shenanigans)



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Character Study, M/M, ended up hurting myself, wanted to write something sweet, welp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2020-01-01 05:28:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18329549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shenanigans/pseuds/irolltwenties
Summary: Alex tried to run to the other side of the world, but Michael was just a memory away.





	Sleep on the Left Side

Alex remembered Guerin at the strangest times: 

wrist deep in the shredded tires filling the PT pit, surrounded by other airmen coughing with black noses. The sharp strands of metal embedded in the tires cutting at his palms as he bear walked, feet slipping in the uneven tread and arms shaking with the work of it was not where he’d imagined that he would close his eyes and think of the way Michael had opened his so slowly after each kiss. He coughed a rough noise, mouth full of that black tar taste that somehow made his stomach tighten as his chest went hot. Guerin smelled like this, like sweat and rubber, like the heat of asphalt and the memory of summer. Alex couldn’t catch his breath, sweat dripping off the end of his nose, smearing in the black dust that coated his skin as they wallowed in the pit. He felt the strain in his shoulders and could hear the throaty laugh that Michael huffed, eyes golden and curls damp at his hairline as he watched Alex try to change the chain on his bike before just shouldering in next to him and slipping the chain back to the correct gear. Alex had stared at his mouth, flushing hot before managing a thank you. Guerin just smiled crooked and close, nose wrinkling a little as he lifted a nonchalant shoulder. “No worries.”

Alex gritted his teeth against the memory and pushed harder, following orders as the Drill Sergeants barked at them.

opening the door to his humvee, the smell of diesel and grease almost visible in the heatwaves rolling off the metal. It was like standing in front of an open oven and he could almost feel the way the back of his neck went tight, prickling with the *want* of Michael’s mouth there, hands sliding with a slight shake under the hem of his shirt. The slam of a lock bar on the back exit of the Emporium as they’d stumbled outside. They’d been so hurried, grabbing at each other as they made it to the parking lot, the kisses in the alley behind the emporium. He’d felt like he was melting in the New Mexico heat, Michael’s mouth moving along his jaw. He could remember the weight of anticipation- the way they’d been breathless silent on the short drive to the tool shed. The heat of the car waiting in the New Mexico sun hitting them like a physical blow, stupid and horny and tense in the silence even as Michael leaned over to just put a hand on Alex’s thigh, fingers curling along the thick seam of denim. “Hurry.”

“Hurry up, Manes,” Pogue muttered, smacking the back of his head and shoving him into the vehicle. “No fucking time for daydreaming.”

a guitar sounded across the sand, bouncing between the barracks, a little lost and out of tune. Alex took a long slow breath, head against the thin pillow. Michael’s fingers were long, moving deft and sure over the frets. He pictured the way his lashes left shadows against his cheeks- eyes closed as he picked a simple melody like he could just reach into Alex’s ribs and pluck the right chord in his heart. Alex shared the room with nine other officers, bunked down and in various states of sleep. He could only think of the rough sound of Michael’s voice, singing a little off key and gruff as he propped up on one elbow, watching Alex in the dimming light of the tool shed. He could hear the moments before everything broke in the quiet rasp of Michael’s voice, the way it sank into his skin like ink in water, spreading through him warm and irrevocable. He’d smiled up at him, reaching to brush back a curl and stilling at the way Michael’s mouth chased his palm, teeth touching the pad of his thumb. In the dark in the desert Alex could still feel it even as he bit at his palm and slipped his hand under the waist of his boxers. It was second best to a memory of a memory, diligent and as breathless as the way Michael had breathed, “Please.”

Gunfire in the night and the guitar cut off with a sour note.

a tear ran hot across his temple, dirt in his lungs and blood on his lips as he stared up at the night sky. The constellations just a little off kilter and vague, but the heat so real and the pain in his leg gone long numb like his fingertips. He could taste it again, the metallic weight of fear and he could hear the echo of his scream- just one word- rattling around in his brain. The world had gone white this time, flare bright and tilting into darkness as the humvee lifted and flipped, spilling them out into the sand before crunching to a stop and pinning him to the dirt. He could hear the moan of Pogue three feet away, animal and dying. He knew the sound of a broken thing, had heard it in the slam of metal against bone, wet and thick and he was still helpless against it. He watched the sky and Michael was there, thighs touching and so aware of the way their shoulders brushed each time they took a breath, nearly in tandem in the bed of that shitty Chevy. Somewhere out in the world Michael might be on his back again, next to Alex, watching the sky and Alex could only take another deep long breath, ignoring the way his body was going cold, shocky sick and dead weight as he listened to his squad bleed out in the dirt.

Michael’s smile was like watching light on water, startling and blinding when he finally saw it. He remembered the way he’d looked at Alex, the way those eyes seemed liquid and lost like Alex was something he couldn’t understand. He remembered the way Michael had traced the line of his throat, the way his hands- both of them- had curled around his neck to touch lightly at the line of his hair. He knew the way his mouth was so soft before going rough and desperate, like tasting Alex was the only thing he’d ever really wanted. He knew that gut punch feel of love. He knew it in his bones. He cried in the dark in the desert, puddled in his own blood and so lost, and thought of the last place he’d ever felt safe.

The bed of that shitty Chevy with Michael tucked against his side and talking brilliant and bold about the future. He thinks this time he would be bold, roll onto his side and just touch the line of that straight nose. He thinks that this time he would curl his fingers into the hem of his white t-shirt and tug until he looked at him. He thinks this time he would want freely and they could just stay curled together in those blankets and in that time- the time before all of these broken things. He would say he loved like he was drowning only to have Michael cut him off with a kiss.

Alex remembered Guerin at the worst times, like only knowing that he had a home when he couldn’t go back to it.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [tumblr](http://irolltwenties.tumblr.com/) if you want to flail with me. Cause that would be rad.


End file.
